


I Didn't Care Much About How Long I Lived

by ezwra



Series: Your Hand In Mine, So Still and Discrete [FREEWOOD] [4]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Gun Violence, Infection, M/M, Negotiations, no painkillers! yay!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-09 07:13:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20849549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ezwra/pseuds/ezwra
Summary: When my time comes aroundLay me gently in the cold dark earthNo grave can hold my body downWork Song - Hozier





	I Didn't Care Much About How Long I Lived

**Author's Note:**

> THIS WORK IS BASED SOLELY OFF OF FANDOM REFERENCES AND CHARACTERISATIONS. I am writing this to rt/ah guidelines as best as I know them. I do not know of their in video personas as I havent watched regularly since 2014. These are characters based on / referencing real people, but are not those people.
> 
> this is it boys. theyre becoming adults and maybe flirting more. they r in love! i am Sleeby and kinda depressed but who isnt at 2130pm  
also, idk if its stated, but fyi this is set two weeks after the last piece of writing  
DOUBLE also - this song is literally ryan's song for this au so go give it a listen

It’s been nearly a month since the party, and things are slowly settling back to normal - as normal as they can get, anyway. Theyve started talking again, which has settled this nervous energy that was brewing inside of Ryan for a long time, and Gavin has been hiding away a little less.

“Rye-bread, you nearly ready?”

Ryan looks up from the kitchen sink, eyes flicking over to where Gavin’s leaning against the wall, “hm?”

Gavin raises his brows slowly, “we have a job, negotiation with Foxglove downtown, yeah?”

“Oh,” Ryan turns back to the sink, looking at the pale red water go down the drain. He turns the faucet off and dries his hands, sliding his gloves back on slowly, “okay. Body armour?”

“Nah, they're friendly. This is just business,” Gavin smiles gently, turning around and leading the way down to the garage. “How has your day been?”   


Ryan thinks of the body in the interrogation room that's currently being cleaned up by the twins, the strips of skin missing from its arms and the broken ribs that splintered through intercostal muscles and tender flesh-

“Fine,” Ryan says, voice calm if not a little tired, “haven't really done much.”   


“It’s nearly lunch and you haven't done anything? Boring.”

Ryan shrugs, grinning as he unlocks his car and climbs into the driver’s side, “i'm not an interesting guy, Gav. We’ve been over this.”

“Ryan, you’re  _ super _ interesting!” Gavin croons, pulling his door shut, “you’re funny and you play videogames-”

“We’re not having this conversation, Gav,” Ryan pulls out of the garage, grinning and glancing over at him before looking back to the road, “can you check that my mask is in the glovebox?”

Gavin rolls his eyes before nodding, pulling the little hatch open and looking around inside before nodding, “it’s in there, along with some- uh…” Gavin pulls out a small box, Ryan can't read the label from where he’s sat so he just waits for Gavin’s comment, “expired condoms?”

The flush that covers Ryan’s face is almost immediate, and he can't help but try to reach over and snatch them away, “hey, put those back!”

“Ryan, lovely Ryan, have you been getting frisky in this car?” there’s a flush high on the arches of Gavin’s cheeks when Ryan looks over, but there’s a hard look in his eyes.

“Obviously not, if they’re expired.”

“Oh,” Gavin starts  _ hmm _ -ing before putting the box back into the glovebox and keeping the mask in his lap, running his nail along the scratches and scorch marks. Something must pop into his mind, because there’s only a few moments of near silence before Gavin drawls, “Ryan.”

He sighs, smirking gently as he taps his fingers along the wheel, “yes, Gavin?”

“Where did you get your mask?”

“Custom,” Ryan says, turning a corner, “ordered them in bulk before I started.”   


“Ah,” Gavin nods, “smart. What will you do when they run out?”

Ryan laughs gently, “you sound very certain.”

“You lose them  _ all the time _ , rye-bread, and they break a lot.”

“I can fix a lot of them,” Ryan pulls the car into park, turning off the engine and taking the mask from Gavin.

“Oh, so you’re good with your hands then, love,” it must be automatic, the innuendo and the pet name, but it makes them both flush brightly and Ryan watches Gavin turn away quickly.

They're quiet for a while as Ryan pulls his mask on and checks his shoulder holsters. Gavin does the same, patting the gun on the small of his back and the knife on his hip, “you ready?” Ryan asks, voice muffled slightly by the mask.

Gavin nods wordlessly and climbs out of the car, reaching into the backseat briefly and grabbing a briefcase before walking up to the entrance of the warehouse. Ryan follows quietly, staring at the back of Gavin’s head.

It’s second nature for Gavin to make jokes like that, Ryan knows. He does it with michael and Jeremy all the time, and he's even worse with Geoff, but it seems like whenever it’s directed at Ryan, Gavin shutters off and seems embarrassed.

Ryan walks into the warehouse first, boots echoing loudly in the open space. There’s three men stood in front of a table. Two are your run of the mill mercenaries, big jackets that are not-so-subtly hiding guns and knives, but the man in the middle is an older portly man, balding and sweaty, thick fingers tapping on his phone until he looks up and slides it into his ill-fitting blazer.

“You’re late,” he says, voice nasally and tight, “i don't like being kept waiting.”

“You obviously don't know who we are, then, love,” Gavin says, walking up to the table and putting down the briefcase. While the two mercs on the other side are stood behind their boss, Ryan stands next to Gavin, “you’ll wait as long as we deem necessary.”

The man scrunches his face up, narrowing his eyes, “i know very well who you are, Ramsey’s bitch and his guard dog. You’re only here to stunt my empire’s growth even more than you already have, taking our hard earned resources.”   


Gavin laughs, but it’s not the one that Ryan’s used to, and it always jars him a little bit, “you’d better watch your mouth, or this deal wont be happening and you’ll have a lot of trouble on your hands.”   


Ryan notices the two mercs reaching for their guns, and he pulls his own pistols from his shoulder holsters.

“Actually,” a sickening grin spreads across his face, “i think you’ll find that it’s going to be the two of you in trouble when we leave you bleeding out on the floor of this shithole.”

Gavin isn't wearing body armour.

That’s the first thing that comes to Ryan’s mind in the moments that seem to pass by like treacle. Gavin isn't wearing body armour, and there’s panic in his eyes when the two mercs level their guns at them. So the decision is simple, in his opinion.

He steps forward and pushes Gavin behind his back.

Five bullets are fired, and three bodies hit the floor.

Ryan grunts and takes a step back, arms lowering slightly as he stares down at the no-named gang boss and the mercenaries. There’s hands on his shoulders, and suddenly Gavin is in front of him, “Ryan, Ryan are you okay?”

He touches his abdomen and frowns at the blood on his hand, “uh…”

Gavin looks down and blanches, cursing before he grabs the briefcase, “Ryan, we need to get back to the penthouse, or to a safehouse, okay?”

He nods, walking quickly to the car with Gavin while he still has the strength. The shock and adrenaline is obviously keeping him afloat, so he tries to focus on it, focus on the panic and the fear. He thinks of what he’d do if Gavin was shot instead, and it makes his heart skip a beat and his stomach tighten into knots.

Gavin climbs into the driver’s side and pulls out his phone - Ryan holds out the car keys and watches him snatch them as he calls someone. There’s no answer, and the frustration written on his face tells Ryan that he must be trying to call one of the doctors they’ve paid off. Ryan tips his head back and keeps his hands on his stomach, frowning as the blood spreads faster and faster, pooling on the chair before dripping off, “just got the interior re-done, too…”

Gavin shoots him an incredulous look, and Ryan grins weakly at him as he calls another number - they answer.

“Jack!”

_ Ah _ , Ryan thinks,  _ no wonder they answered _ .

“We’re on our way back now, Ryan was shot. The other gang members are all dead.” Gavin’s tone is tight and a little panicked, and Ryan wants to reach out to calm him but when he reaches out he notices the blood dripping from the fingers of his gloves. He uses his teeth to pull one of them off, grunting gently at the coppery stench and taste of blood, before settling his hand on Gavin’s shoulder. The other man shoots him a look, going a little more pale before looking away, “gut shot, he’s bleeding pretty bad.”

“M’fine,” Ryan groans, frowning softly and pressing his hands down harder on his abdomen, “don't make a big deal, gav…”

Gavin ignores him, “he’s chatting some right shit, but we need a little infirmary set up, maybe. We’re five minutes out,” Ryan sees a red light and Gavin runs it, his fingers tightening around the wheel, “less.” he puts the phone on speaker and dumps it onto the table, and Ryan tilts his head back against the head rest.

“ _ Ryan?” _ her voice is tinny over the phone, but Ryan is glad to hear it, his heart slowing a little (or maybe it’s the blood loss? His eyes are feeling kinda heavy, and his fingers are sticky, gross), “ _ Ryan, you good?” _

“Mhm,” he mumbles, furrowing his brows, “i'm fine, tired.”

“ _ Don't sleep _ .”

“I know,” he says, hesitating before pressing his fingers roughly against the bullet hole, jerking his legs up a little in pain with a shaky grunt, Gavin looks over with a shocked expression but Ryan says nothing, “m’waking myself up, it’s okay.”

“ _ Good.”  _ Jack says, “ _ i've got Jer here to help out, and your favourite spot on the kitchen counter, _ ” she laughs weakly, but Gavin just pales more, “you ready for this?”

Ryan thinks of all the other counter top surgeries he’s had with jack, bullets and shrapnel and more stitches than he can count, and grins a little meanly, “ready as i’ll ever be.”

Gavin pulls the car over, mounting the curb and bouncing the car roughly. The jolt sends another stab of pain into Ryan’s abdomen, and he has to fold over for a few seconds and ride the wave. Gavin pulls his door open, and suddenly his slim fingers are wrapping around his bicep, “c’mon, rye-bread, you just gotta get up to the penthouse, okay? You can do it, i’ve got you, i've got you.”

Gavin keeps muttering these little encouragements, and Ryan’s heart stammers in his chest before he swings his legs out of the car and heaves himself out. He goes lightheaded for a few moments and has to lean against the roof of the car, hand on his stomach, before managing to finally push himself up and stumble to the apartment building.

The people inside scatter at the sight of him and Gavin, especially when they notice the blood trailing and dripping after them both in heavy bootprints. Ryan forces his way into an open elevator despite the people in it, and Gavin is muttering apologies as they gasp and shuffle away from them both. Ryan stands, swaying to-and-fro as his eyes go lidded under his mask. A hand wraps around the wrist of his free arm, and when he looks down he sees Gavin giving him a worried look. The care and fear in Gavin’s green-blue eyes inspires Ryan to carefully lift his arm and link their fingers together.

On each floor, more and more people rush out, and almost no one gets on. Once they reach the top floor, no one’s on the elevator, and when the door opens they’re both rushing out. Ryan’s stumbling gait sends him through the unlocked door, and he has to reach out with both hands to try and catch himself on the wall before hitting the floor with his knees (he kicks the key bowl on his way down, and he can see it break into two or three pieces against the wall in the livingroom, leaving a deep dent in the drywall - shit). He stays where he’s kneeling, forehead against the soft carpet and his eyes watching the blood dripping from his clothes and his hand in viscous rivulets.

“C’mon,”Jack says, her hands on his shoulders, “get up, Ryan, you need to get up,”

His eyes go a little more lidded and he groans softly, pressing his fingers into the wound to try and jolt that same awareness into himself like he did not even twenty minutes ago, but it doesn't work. More hands grip his arms and his biceps, and when he lifts his head he can see Gavin, eyes big and his dexterous hands going straight to the back of Ryan’s mask to pull it away and reveal his face, “Ryan, love, you need to help us, just a few more steps, come on…”

Ryan stares at him for a few moments, and he knows that the agony is clear on his face because Gavin’s expression changes drastically. Ryan tilts his head down a little before nodding and forcing himself to his feet. People are standing on each side of him, Ryan thinks it’sJack and Jeremy but he can't be sure, and Gavin follows the three of them into the kitchen area. Hands push him onto his back on the counter and suddenly his jacket is being pulled away, his shirt cut from his body and his belt pulled from his pants.

“Hey,” he slurs, and he tries to say more but his tongue feels thick and clumsy in his mouth. Gavin comes up, gently stroking his cheek with a shaky hand.

“It’s okay, love,” he says, but he’s not looking at where Jeremy andJack are working, “it’s gonna be okay, just breathe.”

Ryan nods and closes his eyes, head rolling slightly before he shouts and jolts, looking down as everything is put into a clarity that’s too much for him, the lights are glaring and his head aches and he wants the pain to  _ stop _ .

“Ryan,” Jeremy steps up, Ryan’s belt folded in his hands, “bite down.”

He sends him a calculating look before nodding shakily and opening his mouth, biting down roughly on the tough leather and tilting his head back. Jack and Jeremy give him a questioning look, and he takes a few slow seconds for himself. Gavin’s fingers are scratching along the stubble on his jaw and the other one is in his hair. He nods.

Ryan’s ready.

The pain is immediate, a blade cutting the wound wider and a set of hands pulling it open. Ryan grits his teeth and tilts his head back and tries his damndest to not make noise but the low, growling shout escapes him anyway.

“Ry, it’s okay,” Gavin says, but his voice is shaking and it doesn't convince Ryan of anything - instead, the fear makes his own heart race and he  _ needs _ to go, he needs this to stop.

“Gavin,”Jack says, her voice stern, “If you’re not going to help, leave.”

There’s no noises but Ryan’s shouts of pain and jack’s bloody hands inside of Ryan, and Ryan has to bite down on the belt harder as he watches Gavin step back, “i… i’ll call michael and geoff.”

His footsteps retreat to the back of the penthouse, and Ryan digs his fingers into the marble counter to distract himself, “nearly done, Ryan, i can feel the bullet now.”

He nods weakly and starts to shake a little, blinking slowly as his eyes roll a little.

Suddenly, the hands withdraw and there’s the sound of metal hitting porcelain. There’s a sigh of relief from Jeremy, and Ryan knows he’ll be okay. he lets his body go limp against the counter, panting gently and looking up at Jeremy as he spits the belt from his mouth, listening to the metal buckle clatter against the tiled floor.

“Fuck,” Jack says, Ryan can hear loud fumbling and cursing, “shit,  _ fuck.” _

A worried look crosses Jeremy’s face, and Ryan flexes his stomach, jolting and grunting when pain jolts through him, “what, jack?” Jeremy presses his fingers into the flesh of his hips to keep him down, “what’s wrong?”

“We don't have any clean needles.”

Ryan struggles to sit up, his hand slipping from the towel pressed against his abdomen, “don't fuck with me, jack,” his voice is hoarse, and he can't help the wince when he tries to push himself further. 

Jeremy pushes him back down, “what do we do?”

Ryan can see the panicked look on jack’s face before she goes to the knife block next to the sink, “turn on the stove, Jeremy.”

He blanches, “you’re kidding,” and Ryan shakes his head quickly.

“Don't you fucking dare-”   


“We don't have anything to stitch it up, we need to fix this up somehow!” she shouts, pulling out one of the larger knives, “turn on the stove, jer.”

Ryan struggles under Jeremy, pushing at the counter, “jack,  _ don't _ ,” he’s practically begging, but he doesn't  _ want _ this, they can just buy more sutures, they don't have to cauterize it, they can do  _ anything _ else.

The front door opens and Ryan can hear two sets of footsteps rushing in.

“We heard what- jesus,” michael’s voice is the first he recognises, and from the shock laced through it Ryan realises there must be more blood than he thought, “what do you need us to do?”   


“Hold down his legs,” Jack says, her voice coming from behind him now, “we ran out of thread, we need to cauterize it.”   


“Oh,” someone else says, Ryan thinks it might be Geoff but he’s struggling too loudly to hear much else, “that's- fuck, okay, where’s Gav?”

“He left.”

Those two words are like a second bullet, and he can't help but reflexively struggle more when two hands wrap around each of his ankles to press his legs down, “Geoff-  _ fuck _ \- don't let her do this, just go buy more, don't fucking-”

Ryan goes lightheaded when the red-hot knife appears in the corner of his eyes, and he can't help but struggle more, “don't let him fucking  _ see _ it, dumbass!” michael shouts, digging his fingers in tighter, “Ryan, dude, it’s gonna be  _ fine _ , its not that bad-”

“As soon as i'm better, i'm gonna fuckin’ shoot you and burn it shut, you fucking  _ cocksucker _ -” it’s not a shriek that escapes him, but something close. Jack presses her hand against his abdomen and the side of the knife against the bullet wound and he lets out a hoarse shout, arching his back and kicking his legs to try and get away. His eyes roll back into his head and his foot connects with something firm before he passes out.

\--

Ryan opens his eyes and it’s the middle of the night.

The room feels blisteringly hot, but when he touches his face he’s clammy and cold. He tries to push himself up, but the muscles in his biceps quiver and he has to lay back down. His vision sways, and he needs a drink from how dry his mouth is.

He looks to the side tiredly and sees his phone on the bedside table. He grabs it and fumbles with the passcode before going to his messages. There’s a moment of pause before he reluctantly clicks on jack’s contact and messages her.

_ V (sent 02:19): Watr _

There’s a couple crashes out in the main room of the penthouse, and Ryan can't help but grin, albeit a little deliriously, as Jack enters the room with michael in tow. There’s a  _ glorious _ bruise on michael’s face in the shape of a boot and a bandaid across the bridge of his nose.

Jack sets a bottle of water down on the bedside table and carefully sits on the edge of the bed, “honey, how are you?”

Ryan realises just how out of it he is when he tries to talk and it feels like his tongue is rolling about in his head - he must have said something, though, cause michael laughs from the corner of the room and Jack smiles pitifully. She gently lays the back of her hand over his forehead and her face scrunches up into a worried frown, “you’re running a little hot, Ry…”

He frowns and hesitates before leaning into her touch, reaching a hand up and wrapping his fingers around her wrist, “m’pretty… uh… cold, right now..”

She frowns more, nodding slowly, “okay, hon…” she shuffles back and pulls the sheets back with her movements, michael walks over to take a look as she peels back the gauze pad.

Ryan watches michael’s face as he winces, the other man rubbing his jaw as he leans a little closer, “doesn't look good, jack…” She  _ hmm _ s and pokes at it gently; Ryan flinches away, stomach muscles clenching and flexing and causing him to let out a shout. She whips her hand away and michael frowns in sympathy, “i’ll go get some ice packs.”

He leaves the room and Ryan turns his head, watching as Jack gently puts a new gauze pad on the injury. It’s silent for a few minutes until she says, soft and reluctant, “i’m sorry.”

Ryan nods slowly before sighing tiredly, “don't be.”

“It sucks, I know you don't like burns, but… I  _ had _ to do it, you were…” she looks up at him, “you were bleeding  _ so much _ …”

When Ryan attempts to focus his vision, he can see that there’s still some smears of blood on her arms, “go to sleep, jackie…”

Jack looks at him and smirks tiredly, “in a bit, once you’re sleeping again.”

He shakes his head gently, sighing tiredly as michael comes in, “wont take long, just go now.”   


She gives him a contemplative look before nodding, standing slowly and patting michael’s shoulder as she passes him. Michael looks at her and nods briefly before closing the door and walking over. The icepacks are both wrapped in tea towels; one goes on his forehead and the other over the gauze pad.

“Gav’s been pretty torn up over this,” he says conversationally, not looking at Ryan, “he was sat in the hall until I told him to either come in or fuck off, so he’s sat with Geoff in the living room now.”

Ryan watches him quietly as he pulls a chair from the corner of the room and up to the side of the bed, sitting down carefully, “also, if you’re gonna kick me in the head again, wear some slippers or some shit.”

“Sorry.”

Michael shrugs tiredly, “it’s fine, you were scared.”

Ryan almost denies it out of habit, frowning and opening his mouth before chewing his lip and nodding, “yeah.”

They sit quietly like that for a while, and eventually Ryan falls asleep again.

\--

Ryan wakes up when light shines over his eyes. The door to the bedroom is open, and michael is leaning against the door frame while he talks to someone out of view.

“Are you sure he’s going to be okay?” it’s Gavin, he sounds  _ exhausted _ , “its… I could hear what was going on. I just want to know if he's okay.”

“You’re gonna have to talk to him yourself soon, dude, just come in.” michael says, Ryan can see the frown on his face from where he’s laid.

“He might not want to see me,” Gavin says, “i left him, he probably hates me.”

“ _ Dude _ ,” michael sounds like he’s been saying countless times, so Ryan takes it into his own (delirious, pain addled) hands and clears his throat. Michael looks over and smirks gently.

“Gav,” Ryan says, voice hoarse and sleepy, “c’mere.”

Gavin peeks his head into the room and frowns heavily, “Ryan, you shouldn't be awake, Ryan,” he shuffles into the room, wringing his hands in front of himself. Michael chuckles quietly and steps out, closing the door, “you should go back to sleep.”

Ryan shakes his head gently, pushing himself up. Its easier than last time, but he still feels just as tired and weak, so he slumps forwards as soon as he’s up, ignoring the pain lancing through him, “m’okay…” he reaches for the bottle, frowning tiredly when he knocks the bottle over. Gavin manages to catch it, cracking the seal before taking Ryan’s hand and pressing the bottle into his grip, his fingers lingering. Ryan drinks the water before putting it back down, Gavin gently guiding his hand, “i'm fine, just a little feeble,” Ryan laughs weakly.

Gavin doesn't laugh. He takes his hands away slowly, sitting on the chair that michael was using before and picking at the cracked nail polish on his fingers.

“I don't hate you,” Ryan says, voice quiet, “i don't think I could ever hate you. I understand why you left.”   


Gavin looks up, there’s a little light coming through the blinds and the lines splay across his face, showing dark bags under his eyes and how limp his hair is. Ryan smiles comfortingly, as Gavin talks, “are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he reaches out slowly and takes one of Gavin’s hands, “‘course I am, I wouldn't lie to you.”

Gavin nods, threading their fingers together gently. They sit in silence like that for a while, Ryan leaning back against the bedframe and running his thumb along Gavin’s knuckles. “Hey,” Gavin says, quiet and careful, “i… you didn't have to-”

“Don't.”

Gavin jolts gently, eyes wide before he pulls a face, “Ryan-”

“Don't say it. I know what you’re gonna say, don't,” Ryan tightens his grip on Gavin’s hand, “if it was you in this bed, I wouldn't be able to live with myself. If I had to do it again I would, a million times over.”

Something passes over Gavin’s face, an expression Ryan can't recognise but he knows he’s seen a thousand times on the other man, “i would do the same for you, rye-bread.”

Ryan grins tiredly, “not on my watch, you wont.”

Gavin laughs, and that sound alone makes Ryan feel better, more than any painkiller.

**Author's Note:**

> goodevening and good night - thank u for going on this journey with me (although it was short) and helping me gain the motivation to write more :^)
> 
> might possibly be more...but gimme a couple days


End file.
